Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“I’ve had a hand in raising her!”
“And I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. You’ve been a great source of support for a lot of years, but you can’t come in and railroad all my decisions. It’s not good for me or Peyton, and all it does is cause confusion and dissention. And you need to stop belittling Harley. It’s not okay. I’m invested in her and so is Peyton. She’s a good person, and she doesn’t deserve to be treated the way you’re treating her.”
She folds her hands on the counter, looking somewhat contrite. “I just miss my granddaughter, that’s all.”
“Then we can make plans for you to see more of her. And now that we’re settled, we can come visit more frequently, and you’re always welcome here, but you need to let me be the parent. Just be her grandmother. Have fun with her. Let me be the heavy since that’s my role.”
Peyton comes bouncing down the hall. “Can I have my treat now, Dad?” She clasps her hands behind her back and rolls up on her toes. “Please?”
“You sure can.” I lift the brown paper bag from behind the island, and she shrieks her excitement.
I hope I’ve made an impact with Karen, and that this is the last time I have to have a conversation like this with her. And that the next time she sees Harley, she’s warmer with her. Harley doesn’t deserve that kind of coldness. Not from anyone.
* * *
Later in the evening, after Karen and Kyle have gone home, Peyton and I sit at the kitchen table. She’s dressed in her fairy costume, and I’m wearing a pink tutu that used to fit Peyton as a hat. We do this sometimes, play dress-up and have tea parties. Tonight she asked if we could have grilled cheese sandwiches in lieu of the leftover casserole Karen made for dinner last night. It’s not that it’s bad; it isn’t, Karen is a great cook. However, nine-year-olds aren’t always a fan of all the parts of their meal in a mash-up. And we both felt like grilled cheese. Plus sandwiches and tea parties go hand in hand. We’re drinking chocolate milk out of plastic tea cups to complete the meal. And despite having had cinnamon buns earlier, she and I made those grocery store-bought sugar cookies that I found in the freezer for dessert.
“Are we going to see Harley again now that Granny has gone home?” Peyton dips her grilled cheese in the small lake of ketchup on her plate.
“Want me to make sure she can take you to the park tomorrow after school?”
She nods, and her mouth twists to the side, a sign she’s thinking about what she wants to say. “Granny and Grandpa aren’t coming down again next weekend, are they?”
“No, sweetie, why?” I take the tutu off my head and set it on the table; in part because it’s tight, and also because this seems like a bit of a serious conversation.
She lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “Why doesn’t Granny like Harley?”
I fight not to react to that. “Why would you say that?”
Peyton picks at the crust and focuses on her plate. “The things Granny says sometimes. It seemed like she was upset that Harley was at lunch with us. And she didn’t want Harley to come to the park with us today, but it’s always more fun when Harley is around. It’s not that Granny isn’t fun, but Harley is … softer. Granny is like a stale marshmallow, and Harley is like a fresh one.”
I smile at the comparison. “I don’t think Granny doesn’t like Harley. I think she just isn’t used to me having a girlfriend.”
“It’s not going to be like when you had that girlfriend before. Trista, I think?”
I blink in surprise. I didn’t think she remembered Trista at all. “What do you mean, it’s not going to be like Trista?”
“She was nice. I liked her. She reminds me of Harley a little. But she wasn’t around for very long, and Granny didn’t like her either. I don’t want that to happen with Harley. I don’t want her to stop coming to pick me up from school, or taking me to the park, or making glitter crafts.”
“Trista didn’t stop coming around because of Granny,” I tell her, but as I say it, I’m not entirely sure that’s the truth. “I know it might seem like that, but Trista and I just weren’t right for each other.”
“Do you think you and Harley are right for each other?” she asks.
I smile softly, struggling for words. “Harley and I have a lot in common, and she understands me in ways that not everyone can.”
Peyton tips her head to the side. “I have lots in common with Harley too. We both like fun art stuff, and we’re not afraid to make a mess because they can always be cleaned up. And we both don’t have a mom because they’re up in heaven.”